The Crow and the Butterfly
by Sierra's Darkness
Summary: Somehow, Shizuka thought her brother might have something to say about that. / Sedateshipping, Shizuka x Malik


**Notes: **Wow, this one almost killed me with lack of inspiration. I'm not fond of the pairing, nor the amount of assignments I've had this week. Anyway, my entry for round 5(?) of the contest!

The title and lyrics are from a song by Shinedown. :3

**_The Crow and the Butterfly_**

_Your words still serenade me,  
Your lullabies won't let me sleep_

* * *

She felt the press of something sharp in the soft skin under her chin. Wincing at the prick of pain as much as the rough voice that followed, she did her best not to shake. "Who are you?"

"Shizuka," she said, further unsettled by the 'tsk' sound he made.

"Is that all?"

"Kawai Shizuka." There was new pressure on her jaw-fingers, smooth and strong—and she felt brave enough to ask, "What. . .what about you?"

A chuckle, and the touch was gone. "It doesn't matter who I am," the voice replied. "You can't see me. What difference does it make?"

Shizuka coughed at the dryness in her throat. "I don't know," she said honestly. "There probably isn't much of a point to asking, but. . ."

"It was _polite_?" the voice sneered, and she almost cringed at the disdain in his tone. "Who knows, maybe I'll keep you instead of the alternative."

"What—um, what is the alternative?"

"Killing you."

Somehow, Shizuka thought her brother might have something to say about that. She just said, "Oh."

* * *

It took Rishid less than two hours to produce a complete history of Kawai Shizuka for Malik, medical records included. The girl's apparent blindness had piqued Malik's curiosity in a way that Rishid learned rarely had a favorable outcome for the person in question. As Malik flipped through the documents, Rishid crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway.

"What do you plan to do with her?"

Malik looked up at him once, like the question had been whether or not he would let the Pharaoh's host live after he was done with him. "She's the sister of one of Mutou's friends."

Rishid hadn't read the file, knowing Malik would have wanted to be the first. "You could use her as bait."

"I hardly need bait," Malik muttered. "Those fools will coming running with the right incentive, but that's only if my first idea goes awry, and it won't. The Pharaoh has no chance against a god card."

At the mention of the god cards, two of which Malik possessed and clearly planned to use, Rishid glanced at him sharply. "As you say, Malik-sama."

Throwing Shizuka's file to the table, Malik grinned. "I want you to get as much information about her fool out of her as you can."

"You could just use the Rod and get the answers," Rishid suggested, with an uncertain look at the item, which lay on the table beside Malik's multiple decks of cards.

"That's not half as amusing," Malik scoffed. "Go."

* * *

The day was hot, but Malik could always be found in the sun, taking in its warmth. His face was tilted up, his eyes closed, until he heard Rishid's footsteps. Malik turned a lazy glance in his direction, smiling indolently. He was leaning halfway over the railing, hands loosely holding on—ever on the edge, ever pushing his luck. Rishid studied his brother.

"I'm asking you this because you're the only one who will tell me to my face," Malik said, examining his nails idly. Rishid waited and was rewarded when Malik went on, "Does she have a place here?"

"She?" Rishid repeated, knowing very well whom Malik meant.

Lightning-fast, his brother's smile became a frown. "You were doing so well, Rishid. Don't ruin it."

"Yes, Malik-sama." Briefly, Rishid wondered what precisely Malik meant by that; it was blind obedience he craved, yet Malik relied on his loyalty. He was the only Ghoul with an iota of free will left, even if Malik knew he needn't use the Rod to get what he wanted: Rishid gave it to him, regardless.

"The truth, Rishid. Now."

Stepping closer to the guardrail, Rishid glanced down. At the end of the pier, the girl stood, sunlight bouncing off her hair. Two of the Ghouls had her by an elbow each. At this distance, he could see the ends of her bandages, the unsteady way she held herself, as if she had no sense of balance. Malik had let her have some freedom for the past few days, allowing her to roam freely about the ship and the docks—supervised, of course, by two or three of Malik's mind-slaves.

"No," he answered, ignoring the look of contempt that Malik shot him. "She has no place here, Malik-sama."


End file.
